


Coffee Correlation

by FreyaOdin



Series: Synchronicity [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Smut, First Dates, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Kink, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: The night after their not-so-one-night-stand and dinner with their families, Mitch and Scott get to know each other better outside the bedroom. Also in it. A lot.Sequel to Christmas Coincidence





	

**This is the sequel to my apparently-not-a-oneshot Christmas Coincidence. You should read that first.**

It’s cold outside but it’s only a few steps from the Uber and its overly chatty driver to the coffee shop door, which Scott holds open for Mitch.

He insists on paying—only fair considering Mitch got the Uber—and is sweet enough to leave a substantial tip for the poor barista stuck pulling coffee on Christmas Eve. Mitch could get used to this, honestly, as Scott ushers him down the length of the counter with a hand placed at the small of his back. A gentleman in manners but so far without the condescension that often comes with it.

They stand just a bit too close together for comfort as they wait for their drinks. Well, Mitch is _comfortable_ , staring up into eyes which are staring just as hard back down at him. The uncomfortable part is trying to keep his hands to himself.

***

_They’ve only been in the room about three minutes before Mitch has all six-foot-whatever of Scott sprawled on his bed, naked_ _and open and just waiting for him to crawl on top of him. It’s hotter than hell. Mitch watches for a long moment, enjoying the way Scott’s_ _big, delicious-looking dick is filling out just because he’s staring at it._

_Hmm. Delicious-_ looking _. Now_ there’s _an oversight Mitch will have to fix._

_“I know you’re not a small guy,” Scott says, licking his lips and smirking up at him. “But I think you’re still going to need to be closer if you’re going to fuck me.”_

_“Oh, I’m going to fuck you.” Mitch makes a detour to get the remaining condoms and lube and dump them on the bed where they’ll be in easy reach. Then he slowly crawls between Scott’s legs. He starts at one bent knee, nibbling at the inside of it and then up a long inner thigh. “But first I think I need to have some fun.”_

***

“So, favorite food?” Mitch asks once they’re settled in a quiet corner. Then he winces because really? What the hell was that, the start of a speed date? They’re supposed to be getting to know each other outside the bedroom, but that was just pathetic.

Scott is kind enough to just go with it. “Fried chicken. Yes, I’m a Southern stereotype. Favorite musical artist?”

“Singer or producer?”

“Either.” Scott says, waving a vague hand through the air. “Both.”

That makes the choice easier. “Imogen Heap and Sophie, respectively.”

“Oooh.” Scott sits up and loops one long arm over the back of his chair, clearly intrigued. “That’s hot.”

***

_Mitch has three fingers in Scott’s ass and his mouth wrapped around Scott’s cock and he could not be more mesmerized by the view. Scott is gripping the headboard, back arched, chest heaving, endless legs clamped around Mitch’s torso. He’s moaning almost continuously, deep and perfect and punctuated by even deeper grunts whenever Mitch sucks particularly hard._

_He pulls off with a pop, ignoring the high-pitched whine it gets him. “You want to come like this?”_

_Scott shudders through an exhale but shakes his head. “Get inside me.”_

_A minute later and Mitch is enjoying the feel of Scott around him, panting and sweating as he struggles to accept all of Mitch. He gives him a moment after bottoming out, just gently rocks his hips until Scott’s tugging and swearing at him. “Fuck, move… c’mon, fuck me!”_

_Mitch does, moaning as he gets a good rhythm going—fuck, he feels good—until Scott’s legs clamp even tighter, hands pulling Mitch’s ass closer, broad chest glistening and straining as he writhes on Mitch’s dick._

_Holy shit, Mitch will top more often if this is going to be what he gets to see and feel when he does._

***

After a few failed attempts to get to the subject naturally, Mitch finally just blurts “So you’re a vers then?” It’s probably not all that appropriate a question, but he’s been dying of curiosity ever since Scott suggested it and this is his first chance to ask without an inadvertent eavesdropper. The plus side of it being Christmas Eve is there are very few people in the place and fewer still who take the time to sit down with their drinks.

“I wouldn’t say vers,” Scott answers, shrugging and taking a sip of his macchiato. He looks hot as fuck in his grey turtleneck and open jacket; Mitch has been appreciating the fit of the sweater all evening, but with the lighting in the coffee shop, it’s now also making his eyes look ridiculously blue. “I don’t bottom all that often. Technically a versatile top, I guess, but if I _have_ to label myself I usually just say top.” His gaze flickers down Mitch’s body and he smiles lopsidedly before meeting his eyes again. “I’m more than willing to make an exception in some cases, though.”

Fuck, he’s perfect. Mitch already knew they were sexually compatible, that was more than apparent last night. But having him be a top who doesn’t mind occasionally bottoming pairs beautifully with Mitch’s love of bottoming with the occasional hankering to top.

And with the way Scott’s ass has been filling out those jeans all night, Mitch has a far bigger dose of _hankering_ than usual.

***

_Mitch is laying between Scott’s legs, chin propped on the back of his hands on Scott’s chest, staring up at his peaceful face. “You seemed to really enjoy that.”_

_“Mmm,” Scott says, opening his eyes and smiling down at Mitch. “I did.”_

_“Why don’t you bottom more often then?”_

_Scott's smile turns rueful. “My, uh, my prostate isn’t all that sensitive.” Then he smirks. “Unlike yours.”_

_Well yeah, Mitch can’t exactly argue that. His prostate is basically his own personal happy button. It’s pretty great._

_“So I actually get off more on how much pleasure my partner is getting from fucking me. But I—” Scott breaks off to clear his throat as his face flushes red. “I need to actually care about my partner for it to work. So…yeah. There’s that.”_

_Mitch puzzles over why he’s suddenly so embarrassed before realizing the implication: Scott already cares for him._

_That’s also pretty great._

***

“What was it like growing up in New York?” Scott asks, clearly trying to get them back to the outside-the-bedroom portion of the evening’s activities. “And why the hell would you move to Texas?”

Excellent fucking question. “Colder, for the most part. And my parents had apparently considered moving here before I was born but it didn’t work out.” He sighs and picks at the cardboard sleeve on his cup. “Not sure why they thought moving the gayest fucking sixteen year old in New York State to Arlington was a good idea, but here I am.”

Scott’s face softens with sympathy and he lays his hand on the table, palm open and inviting. “I’m glad you’re here. But that couldn’t have been easy.”

Mitch takes his hand without hesitation. “Not really, no.” That’s an understatement; Mitch hadn’t known anyone but had been too proud to act straight enough to fit in and too anxious to do much more than approach some of the other obviously gay kids. “It’s one of the reasons I decided on California for college; I never really felt at home here.”

Scott looks like he’s still curious, but he just squeezes his fingers around Mitch’s and takes the implied request to change the subject to heart. “Your dad said you went to Cal Arts. BFA in Music Technology? That sounds amazing.”

“It really was.” Mitch’s smile is genuine again. “I loved it. I’ve always really loved music, especially electronica, and there’s just something about making something come out of literally nothing that really appeals to me.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “Your mom said you’re a singer?”

***

_Mitch rolls his hips, grunting each time Scott’s cock slides across his prostate. Scott himself is leaning back against the headboard, sitting up with Mitch astride his lap. It puts their faces at the same level and Mitch takes advantage with an open, filthy kiss. Scott lets him in, lets him taste and explore to his heart’s content, their breath mingling with each synchronized exhale. He brings his hand up to Mitch’s jaw, cupping it almost gently as he pulls him closer. The slight change increases the friction between Mitch’s cock and Scott’s abs and Scott swallows the resultant moan._

_He’s thrusting up each time Mitch grinds down, bent legs bracketing and supporting him as he rides.  His other hand is squeezing Mitch’s hip, slowing him when he tries to pick up the pace. That won’t…that won’t do. Mitch is getting close and he wants to go faster. Needs to go faster. He lets go of Scott’s shoulders, forgoing the extra leverage they were giving him in order to weave his fingers through soft strands of blond hair. Then he tugs, hard._

_Scott breaks their kiss, hissing at what has to sting. He stops their movement and reaches up to pull Mitch’s hands away from his head, securing both wrists at the small of Mitch’s back with one big hand. Then he uses his other to pinch Mitch’s nipple in retaliation. “Be good.”_

_Fuck. Oh holy fuck,_ yes _._

_The effect goes straight to Mitch’s balls and he feels but can’t stop himself from relaxing into Scott’s hold, feels his head dropping back and his mouth dropping open as he lets go, trusting that Scott will keep him upright. His dick twitches again as he’s proved right._

_Scott breathes a soft “Oh,” and his eyes search Mitch’s face. “You like that? Like being restrained and controlled?”_

_“I might—ˮ Mitch’s eyes roll back as Scott pinches him again and he has to swallow heavily. “I might have a bit of a thing for it, yes.”_

_Scott smirks and slides his free hand up until he’s cupping Mitch’s jaw again, not-so-gently this time. He restarts Mitch’s hip rolls, even slower than before, pushing and pulling at his wrists to guide him, rocking his own hips up to meet each one. “I can work with that.”_

***

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Pop performance at USC. I’ve done a bunch of writing and arranging, mostly for other people, some of which you might have heard of. Between that and a decent stream of gigs, I’m making a reasonable living.” Scott shrugs again. “I just…I haven’t really found my niche, you know? What makes me different than the other ten thousand wannabe singers in LA.”

Mitch gets that. He has his own voice, his own preferred beats and progressions and sound, but he hasn’t figured out how to really stand out yet. What will bring his work to the next level. “You’ll find it.”

Scott cocks a blond eyebrow at him. “For all you know I sound like a lovesick walrus with food poisoning. You haven’t heard me sing.”

“Hmm.” It’s true that Mitch hasn’t heard him sing, but he’s heard his voice. Heard him speak and whimper and moan. Frankly, anyone who can come on key gets bonus points as far as Mitch is concerned. And if any of his other improvisational abilities translate into his music…well, Mitch is eager to hear what he can do. “But I will.

“You’ll what?”

“Hear you sing.”

***

_Mitch wakes up to a warm hand sliding over his hip and warmer lips nibbling at his neck. He peers blearily at the obnoxiously large hotel clock on the nightstand. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, Scott.”_

_“It’s three o’clock_ Christmas _morning,” Scott replies, still kissing down his neck. The arm under Mitch’s neck is_ _bent across his chest, holding him in a loose embrace. “I’ve always wanted to try Christmas_ _sex.”_

_“You heathen.” Mitch is vaguely aware he should probably feel guilty for considering it, but Scott’s lips are now just behind his ear and his hard cock is pressing into the back of Mitch’s leg. “Two conditions.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“One: you’re gentle.” Mitch tenses his glutes experimentally and yeah, he’s sore but it’s not as bad as he’d have thought. “Mommy has already seen far more action the last two nights than she_ _’s used to.”_

_Scott smooths his hand around Mitch’s thigh and palms his rapidly filling_ _dick, simultaneously burying his face between Mitch’_ _s neck and shoulder. “I can be so, so gentle.”_

_God, that sounds promising. “Two: I don’t have to do any work.”_

_“That one’s trickier.” Mitch can feel Scott’s smile against his skin. His big hand trails lower,_ _caressing Mitch’s balls and then dipping one of his_ _fingers into his tender hole. “Does shuddering in my arms and all around my cock as I fuck one more orgasm out of you count as work?”_

No _, Mitch_ _thinks as a whimper escapes his throat without his consent. He lifts one of his legs and drapes it over Scott’s, opening himself up more fully to his touch._ No, it does not.

***

Scott’s smiling now, bright and wide and handsome as fuck. “You want to hear me sing sometime?”

Mitch can’t help but grin back. “Of course I do. After the way your mom was selling it?”

That gets a wince. “She’s a little…”

“Enthusiastic?” Mitch takes a sip of coffee, still smiling. “She’s your mom. That’s her job.”

“Still,” Scott says, covering his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable,” Mitch corrects, not just meaning Scott’s mother.

***

_Mitch is_ _being held tight, his back pressed against a broad chest, a warm arm embracing him. He’s got a big, talented cock easing in and out of his ass and a big, talented hand stroking his own in perfect counterpoint. There’s a stream of compliments flowing across his ear in pants of hot air, whispered words telling him how good he is, how beautiful he is, how honored Scott is to do this for him. The words stop from time to time and a series of open-mouthed kisses are pressed down his neck. They feel good, like something Mitch should pay back. But he can never figure out how before the lips are gone and the words restart, over and over again, each time more earnestly than the last._

_Mitch can hear but not control the near-constant whine coming from his throat. He can’t control much, in fact. Can’t think of anything, can’t process anything but how much he’s feeling. How_ good _he’s feeling._

_The cock in his ass keeps pressing into him, the hand on his dick keeps sliding over him, and the words in his ear keep flowing around him. He can feel his orgasm building, a tight coil of warmth deep in his gut and his balls and he’s torn between desperately needing it to happen and hoping it never does._

***

“I’ll sing for you when you perform something for me,” Scott says, once he’s recovered from his mother-induced embarrassment. “Some EDM, I mean. I want to hear what you can do.”

Mitch thinks about it and then nods. “Deal.” He smiles slyly. “It’ll let me record some samples. Maybe I’ll make you the star of my next dubstep track.”

He intends it as a joke. He’s used to pop and other more established genre artists being taken aback by such a request, but Scott just looks pleased.

“Deal!”

***

_They’re in the shower together, trading sappy, sloppy kisses and touching each other as much as possible while procrastinating for their lives._

_Mitch feels both ecstatic and mournful. He’s so, so happy he’s found Scott, so hopeful this thing that’s between them can turn into something long term and meaningful. But at the same time he has to say goodbye, at least for now. It’s Christmas Day; neither of them can get away with ditching their families to spend time with a new flame, even one that was set up for them._

_It’s making Mitch feel like an overly emotional teenager, pissed off at the world because he won’t get to see his boyfriend for the entirety of Christmas Break._

_Huh. It’s probably too soon to be pulling out the boyfriend label, right?_

_Though it doesn’t seem like Scott, currently massaging soap into Mitch’s shoulders and back in an utterly fantastic way, would care if he’s being a bit premature. And maybe they won’t have to wait that long._

_“When’s your flight back to LA?” Mitch asks._

_Scott’s hands pause and then press in a different way, wordlessly urging him to turn around. He does, looking up into blue eyes now studying his face. Whatever Scott sees there makes him smile and respond with “The 28 th.”_

_Mitch nods. “The 3:30 American Air?”_

_Scott licks his lips. “Yeah. Yours too?”_

_It’s fucking kismet, that’s what it is. “Yeah.”_

_“New Year’s plans?” Scott asks. He’s starting to not-so-subtly crowd Mitch back against the shower wall. Mitch is more than willing to go with it._

_He only has to think about his answer for a second. His friends will understand. “Utterly changeable.”_

_Scott takes Mitch’s mouth in a deep kiss and it’s the last real thought Mitch has for a while._

***

Mitch drains the last of his coffee and looks at Scott, who’s been done and patiently waiting for a while now. “Want to get out of here?”

He tilts his head, looking suddenly unsure. “That depends. Am I being invited up to your hotel room, or should I be begging for your number and a second chance once we’re in LA?”

Mitch thinks about teasing him for a millisecond but fuck that. They’ve both already waited far too long. “Well, I do have three more condoms. Be a shame to waste them.”

Scott grins and stands up, gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

***

**Thoughts?**

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you interested in writing discussions or processes, I've written a commentary for this fic on Wattpad in a 'book' titled [Writer Ramblings](http://my.w.tt/UiNb/ihCIay87Tz)


End file.
